


i miss you by my side

by ramenree



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Melancholy, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenree/pseuds/ramenree
Summary: “Bye. Love you.”Yanjun stills for a moment. It feels different now, whenever Zhangjing says that, a sort of bittersweet feeling that makes him warm all over, but at the same time, presses right where it hurts the most. “Love you too.”Zhangjing hangs up.
Relationships: Lin Yanjun/You Zhangjing
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	i miss you by my side

**Author's Note:**

> hi,
> 
> a fic (?) for zhangdejun, because they really are the superior ship. this is a little lacklustre, in my opinion, but i still hope you enjoy reading it! im trying out this new style of writing for my oneshots, and at least so far, im having fun with it. 
> 
> btw, this is for the wenjun cute fic fest! go check the other fics in this fest out when they're posted!
> 
> thank u so much xoxo

Sometimes, when it’s two am, and Yanjun’s just gotten out of the shower, he’ll lie awake on his bed and stare at the blank screen of his phone.

There’s nothing wrong with that, he supposes, except for how bad his sleep schedule’s become with his work, but it still feels like a sin to force himself to stay awake only to do nothing except trace his fingers over and over again the edges of his phone.

In four-- five, if he’s lucky--, his manager will come in and wake him up for another round of makeup, styling, cameras, recording. He’ll nod and go along with it, and he won’t have a chance to check his phone until it’s too late. It’s not that he doesn’t want to. It’s just that he’s tired for most of the day, and can’t seem to pick up his phone until it’s past twelve.

Zhangjing would tell him that it’s okay, to not worry too much about calling him. If Yanjun closes his eyes, he can even imagine the way he’d say it -- gently, softly, because that’s what Zhangjing is: layers and layers of softness on top of an iron core. He’d look at Yanjun with a gaze that he could pass off as indifferent if Yanjun didn’t know better. In fact, he doesn’t even need to imagine it. Zhangjing’s told him numerous times now to not worry about calling him, not when he’s so tired from filming and Zhangjing himself needs to stick to a healthier sleep schedule.

But Yanjun stays up anyways, and he looks at his phone, because the temptation is there, at least, for him. He’s not as disciplined as Zhangjing, he thinks. He can’t keep himself from wondering what the other man is doing at every moment of the day, not when he hasn’t seen him in weeks. And so he stays awake, and he wishes that he could capture time for just a moment, regardless of how foolish the notion is, so that he won’t have to call so late and wake Zhangjing up from his sleep.

***

Zhangjing likes to hold his hand, he knows. Back when things were more normal, he’d do it whenever he could, grasping at Yanjun’s fingers and trailing along his arm, so endearing that every time he did it, Yanjun felt like his heart would triple in size. Even when he wasn’t allowed -- in public, for instance-- he’d try at least. Put his hand so near his underneath the table, until his fingers were clinking against Yanjun’s, and Yanjun couldn’t help but thumb him back.

Yanjun isn’t necessarily what he’d call a very touchy person -- Chaoze and Dinghao and all the others would credit him for that --, but for Zhangjing he could make an exception. There was something nice about holding his hand, so much smaller than his, in his own. And especially when he was embarrassed about doing it. 

Whenever Zhangjing took Yanjun out for ice cream, the older boy would always make a mess out of whatever flavour he was getting. He’d pout at the dripping cream down his hand and whine about it until Yanjun finished laughing and passed him a napkin. He’d have sticky hands after that, however, and Zhangjing would try to leave to wash it off.

Yanjun liked holding his hand then, grabbing him before he could take off, laughing at the way Zhangjing would pout at the stickiness on both of their fingers. Maybe it was because Zhangjing would whine so cutely about it. Maybe it was because he could act childish and refuse to let him go, making Zhangjing have to lead him to the bathroom so that he could wash it off. Maybe because it was just another chance to do something normal couples did. He wasn’t too sure, but it didn’t matter too much. 

***

Zhangjing calls him during the day anyways, even when he’s busy, and Yanjun doesn’t think that he can take the risk in calling him in broad daylight.

“Yanjun?” he says carefully, when Yanjun’s picked up.

Yanjun glances at the crew making their way towards him. Shooting’s wrapped up for lunch, and Yanjun’s stomach is growling. It’s not common to get a call from Zhangjing though, so he thinks he can tolerate it.

“Who else could it be?” he laughs, a little breathlessly.

“You jackass. Maybe I just like saying your name.”

Yanjun smirks. “I know you do.”

Zhangjing huffs in annoyance. “Any more jokes and I’m hanging up.”

Yanjun laughs, for real this time. And louder. Loud enough to make the camera intern a few feet away look up from her clipboard for a few seconds. “What’s up? Did you miss me too much to not call? Don’t you have a recording right now?”

Zhangjing hums. “Yeah. We’re just taking a small break right now, but I’m going right back in a few minutes. Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope. Just about to.” Yanjun shifts his weight to his other leg. “You should rest before singing again.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Zhangjing insists. He pauses, then continues, quieter now. “I miss you.”

That, Yanjun knows. It’s hard not being with the person he loves, especially when it’s been weeks since he’s even held the boy’s hand, months since he’s come out of the shower to find a Zhangjing shaped lump under his covers. It’s even worse these past few days because of the schedules both of them are tied to. This is the first time in a few days now that he’s heard the other boy’s voice.

“I miss you too,” he tells him. “I wish you could be here with me. My hotel room is so lonely without you here.”

“Then call me when you’re back there.” Yanjun can almost hear the pout in his voice. “I don’t mind, I keep telling you.”

“If they ever let me finish before eleven, then I will.” Yanjun sighs and waves off his manager, who’s come to collect him. “As soon as this is done though, I’m coming back.”

“You better.” Zhangjing’s voice is stuffier now, sweeter. “I need you to sneak food for me. My manager won’t let me eat.”

“I will,” Yanjun promises. “Check outside your door right now. A hundred bowls of coconut rice, just for you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zhangjing says, fond. There is a voice in the background, something that sounds awfully urgent and awfully interrupting. “I might need to call you back later. Is that okay?”

“Go record!” Yanjun smiles. “I want to hear the demos later.”

“Bye. Love you.”

Yanjun stills for a moment. It feels different now, whenever Zhangjing says that, a sort of bittersweet feeling that makes him warm all over, but at the same time, presses right where it hurts the most. “Love you too.”

Zhangjing hangs up.

***

“Kunkun’s gotten skinnier,” Linong tells him over the phone. Yanjun hums and tucks it more securely under his chin as he washes his hands in the studio sink. He’s on his break now, a few moments of stolen time while he gets his voice in order to record. Linong chose just the right time to call. “I think we need to bully him into eating more.”

Yanjun laughs. “Xukun doesn’t gain weight no matter how much he eats. He’s going to have to eat like a pig if he wants to get some pounds back. How was seeing him, by the way?”

“Good. It’s the same, you know? He’s more tired now, I think, with the variety shows, but I think he’s having fun with it.”

“And how are you?” Yanjun asks. It’s been a while since they’ve talked -- it’s been a while since Yanjun’s talked to any of his friends, really. And it’s nothing personal: Chengcheng likes making the joke that Yanjun only texts in the group chat once a month or so, but the truth is that Yanjun can’t keep up with all the fun they seem to have in there these days. 

“Great. Excited for my performance in a few weeks.”

“As you should be. Zhangjing wouldn’t stop talking about how much you check with him about your pitch.”

“I knew he’d tell you,” Linong complains. His voice cuts out a big, probably from the awkward corner Yanjun is in, and he tugs open the door to try to get a better signal. “Telling him something is like telling you at the same time.”

“What, there are secrets you’re trying to keep from me?” Yanjun growls in mock hurt. “I see that this is where our friendship has gone.”

“I knew I’d like Zhangjing-ge more in the end.” Linong’s voice lowers. “He talks about you a lot these days, you know.”

A lump forms in Yanjun’s throat, and he swallows it down the best he can. “I know, I know.”

“He misses you.”

“I know.”

Linong doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Call him more then.”

“I will. I’ll try,” Yanjun attempts. “We’re calling tonight, I think.”

“Good. Video call once in a while too, okay? Zhengting and Xukun can tell you the benefits of video calling if you ask them.”

Yanjun smiles in spite of the stinging pain in his chest. “How do you even know about their video calls?”

“Justin,” he answers. “Now go record, ge. Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t.”

***

And sometimes, when he’s sure his manager is asleep, Yanjun will climb out of bed and slip out into the back alleys of the place he’s staying at. It’s a foolish, stupid move, he knows, and if his manager ever found out, he wouldn’t live to see the next day. But sometimes, there’s nothing he can do to get the itch underneath his skin to stop itching except for to walk around and clear his mind for a bit.

Yanjun’s favourite thing to do is to walk around the marketplace. It’s usually closed by the time he gets there, the only shops open the small, rickety twenty-four hour carts that sell store-bought noodles and hot water, but it doesn’t matter. Those are the shops he comes for anyways.

Back when they were still trainees, Yanjun liked taking Zhangjing out to old, crumbling shops like these. Those were different times, he knows now, because he had the liberty to do so. He could slip Zhangjing in his arms and lead him into the marketplace without worry, because it was usually late anyways, and no one cared about two ragtag boys still struggling to chase their dreams. A bowl of noodles could be the catalyst for Yanjun to coax Zhangjing back into his happy self, away from the insecurities and homesickness the boy could be so prone to. 

It’s different now. He has to wear a mask and pull his bucket hat over his face until he can barely see the ground. And more importantly, there’s no Zhangjing.

He’ll think about this fact the most if he gives in to his late night cravings and buys a bowl of noodles. He’d still get the beef flavour, because that was Zhangjing’s favourite, even back then, and he’d ask for a boiled egg on the side to put in the soup later. 

And when he sits on the curb to eat it, he’ll hesitate on the noodles, because a part of him still wishes desperately that there was a small, Malaysian boy with curly brown hair and bunny teeth sitting beside him, and he could try to trick him into eating more than what he thought was his fair share. 

Yanjun eats a bit less than half the noodles in the end anyways.

***

“I miss you,” he says to Zhangjing, as soon as his face appears on the screen.

Zhangjing raises his eyebrows. “What’s bringing this on now, you big sap?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say it to you as soon as possible.” Yanjun readjusts the iPad so that it can rest comfortably on his legs. 

“Well give me a warning next time,” Zhangjing frowns. “If I knew we were going to be all lovey dovey, I’d have tried to beat you to it.”

“You can say it now,” Yanjun says, then laughs, because they’re being immature and silly. It feels nice, though. And comfortable.

“Maybe I will later,” Zhangjing says back. He’s just showered, Yanjun can tell, because his hair is still damp and falling over his forehead. It’s cute, and Yanjun fights the urge to take a screenshot of how he looks right now. “How was shooting today?”

“It was alright. I think I’m getting more and more into the mindset of my character now.”

“That’s good to hear. Dang, Nine Percent is just all actors now, isn’t it? I’m the only one who hasn’t been in a movie or drama now.”

“Xiao Gui hasn’t,” Yanjun points out. “And from what I know, he’s not planning on starring in one any time soon. And I think Kun would cry if you counted his dramas from back in the day.”

Zhangjing grins. “Kunkun better get his tissues ready then. I’m excited to see everyone act, though. Chengcheng’s movie is finally coming out, and so is Linong’s. I talked to Zhengting a few days ago and he said that his was going to be out sometime soon, and even if it isn’t, I can wait for him and Wenjun to finish filming their drama. And I’m still not done with Ziyi's drama yet.” He pauses. “And of course, yours too.”

“Won’t you be annoyed by the onscreen romance?” Yanjun teases him. “My potential love interests?”

Zhangjing shakes his head. “Nope. Because they don’t get to see my Lin Yanjun.”

“What do you mean?” Yanjun fights back a laugh. “They’re all going to see me when the drama airs.”

“No, they won’t see  _ this  _ version of Yanjun, though. Only I get to see this version.” He widens his eyes at Yanjun through the screen. “This version of Lin Yanjun is mine and only mine.”

Warmth fills his chest, the way Zhangjing always makes it do so. “It’s not only you who gets to see me shirtless,” he jokes weakly. 

Zhangjing pouts and bats at the screen. “You know what I mean.”

And this is the truth: Yanjun really does know. He knows, because there are things he only shows to Zhangjing, the little parts of him that he despises and can’t bear to look at, but that Zhangjing embraces with open arms. Zhangjing takes them, all the aspects of himself he hates the most, and loves them, because Zhangjing has always been the braver one out of the two, so much so that he’s even better than Yanjun in understanding himself.

It’s why he’s so willing to accept with the disappointment and sadness their relationship can sometimes feel like. While Yanjun is always thinking of what he wishes they could do, reminiscing back on simpler times so removed from the tint of sadness over everything now, Zhangjing is strong enough to love the moments they can share together now. Yanjun is always looking for ways he can make them better, but Zhangjing loves what he can have. 

Yanjun tries his hardest to be like him, to take what he can have and look forward. But sometimes, it’s not that easy, and love has always been something difficult.

***

One of the biggest fights they’d ever shared as a couple was back at Dachang. Yanjun remembers it crystal clearly, because if anything, that was the event that  _ could _ have been the end.

It was just before the last evaluations, when pressure was the highest amongst the remaining trainees. Yanjun was no different. He spent days, nights even, practicing for the stage, trying to perfect each and every part. 

There came a moment in this period of time when Yanjun lost faith. He never had much to begin with to debut -- not when there were people like Cai Xukun and Justin and  _ Zhangjing _ , who pulsed with so much talent and personality, it would have been unjust if they didn’t make it --, but it was especially then that he felt the stinging urge to just  _ give up _ , to leave everything behind and start anew.

It was in one of these moments, where he was lost in his thoughts of inadequacy and hopelessness, that Zhangjing found him.

“Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing’s voice came from the direction of the door. It was angry, something that Zhangjing usually was not akin to. “Do you know how late it is?”

Yanjun wipes the sweat off his forehead and glances at him. Zhangjing is dressed in his pyjamas and a sweater that he recognizes as his own. “Two?”

“Four.” Zhangjing takes a step forward, letting the door click shut behind him. “I thought we talked about sleeping earlier. I know you want to practice, but you need rest if you want to do well during performances.”

Yanjun shakes his head. “I need practice, that’s what I need.”

“You don’t. You need rest,” Zhangjing insists. He comes up to him, glaring up at him. “Your performances are going to be shit if you don’t sleep enough.”

“They’re going to be shit anyways. What’s the fucking difference?”

Zhangjing stares at him as if he had just slapped him. “And throw away all of the hard work you’ve contributed until now?”

“Maybe I will,” Yanjun retorts. He steps back, nauseated suddenly, all the thoughts he had compiled during his late night practicing bubbling dangerously near the top of his consciousness. “Maybe I should just leave everything. That way, my work won’t just all be so  _ shit _ .”

Zhangjing narrows his eyes and steps closer to him. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“But what if I do?” Yanjun snaps again. He puts his arms out, almost like a barrier between himself and Zhangjing. Perfect, beautiful, kind,  _ talented _ Zhangjing, who wouldn’t understand what he’s feeling right now. “What if I don’t want to do this anymore? What if I told you I wanted to quit?”

“Lin Yanjun-” Zhangjing starts, then deflates. He glares at him, his mouth set hard and firm, his eyes quivering. “Don’t. Don’t say stuff like that. You were the one who told me to be braver about my dreams in the first place. Follow your own advice”

“Why?” he taunts. “Is it because  _ you _ don’t want me to quit? Surprise. I told you that originally because you actually have  _ potential _ . Not everyone can be as talented as you, You Zhangjing. Not everyone is just born with enough talent to succeed!”

Zhangjing slaps him.

Yanjun stumbles, feeling the burn spread across his left cheek. He stares at Zhangjing, who’s also taken a step back, his arm raised and his eyes full of tears.

“Don’t you dare, Lin Yanjun,” he says slowly. His gaze is angry, boiling over with hurt. “Don’t you dare say that I haven’t worked for everything I have.”

Something poisonous seeps into him then, something manic and painful and strangling him from the inside. “Leave then.”

Zhangjing looks at him, horrified. For a suspended moment, they look at each other, Yanjun’s stinging gaze into Zhangjing’s steamy eyes. Yanjun feels his heart crack and twist on top of itself.

_ Don’t.  _ He prays.  _ Please don’t _ .

Zhangjing leaves anyways.

***

Yanjun still remembers how Zhangjing looked when he first saw him.

He was wearing a black t-shirt over black sweatpants over black sneakers, and in all sense, he should have gone unnoticed in Yanjun’s eyes. But Yanjun saw him anyways, shining like the little sun he was, his expression nervous, excited, happy, hopeful all at once. He walked with a slight waddle in his step, his eyes darting around to look at the other trainees in the room.

Yanjun stared at him from where he was standing in the corner, and when Zhangjing’s gaze finally landed on him, he felt an inexplicable hope that he would do it again.

He did. Zhangjing joined him in the corner, his lips tilting upwards in a smile, and Yanjun, looking at his bunny teeth and red cheeks, tried to remind himself how to breathe.

***

“He misses you,” Nongnong comments to him the night before the last evaluation. It's past midnight, and by all means, Nongnong should be asleep like the rest of their roommates. He’s not though, and it’s Yanjun who’s forced to be stabbed with the weight of what the boy’s just told him. 

Yanjun doesn’t say anything. 

“He’s angry, I know that for sure. And sad. But he misses you, Lin Yanjun.”

“I know,” he says into the darkness.

“Do you? Sometimes, I don’t think you know just how much he loves you.”

Yanjun stares at the sliver of window not covered by the curtains. The stars are particularly bright tonight, glimmering against the inky sky.

“I know.”

***

“I like this,” Yanjun comments to him over the phone. Zhangjing laughs.

“You like everything I record.”

“True,” he admits. “But I  _ really _ like this one. What did the others say?”

“Nongnong and Ziyi said about the same as you. Xiao Gui is filming a show right now, but he said that he’d get to it as soon as he was free. Same goes for the others.”

“There you have it then. Stunning reviews from all the critics.”

Zhangjing laughs again, his voice like the tinkling of a bell. Yanjun thinks that it sounds even better in person. “Of course they’re all going to be nice to me. You can’t, though. I need your honest, unfiltered opinion on it.”

Yanjun hums. It’s beautiful, of course. Everything that Zhangjing has had a hand in is bright and beautiful, he knows that. But there’s something else he wants to say to him, because he knows about the late nights, the dark eye circles, the sadness and the loneliness and all the hurt.

“It’s beautiful,” he says plainly. “But it’s painful to listen to.”

Zhangjing is silent for a long moment. Yanjun is too. He’s sitting in the back of the filming van, stealing this sliver of time to call Zhangjing. His costume is uncomfortable with how he’s positioned but he knows it’s worth the beauty he’s just heard in Zhangjing’s demo.

“Why?” Zhangjing finally says. His voice is very low.

“Because I can hear just how hard you worked for this, and how much you had to sacrifice just for this track. And I hate how much you have to work like this, and how I can’t be there for you, because I just want you to be happy.” 

Zhangjing doesn’t say anything again. Yanjun takes a deep breath and lets it out, dispelling the tremors that have suddenly seeped into his arms. His heart is raw and throbbing, laid out for Zhangjing to do what he likes to it.

“I love you,” Zhangjing finally says. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Yanjun says back, very very slowly. “Trust me. I know.”

***

Zhangjing finally seeks him out after the last performance. 

Yanjun is scrubbing the makeup off his face when he hears the door to the bathroom creak open. He reaches for the towel blindly, his eyes still scrunched up from the cleanser. “Hand me the towel, Nong.”

“Your performance was incredible.”

Yanjun stops.

“I was watching the entire time,” Zhangjing continues on. “Really, you can ask Dinghao to confirm that.”

“Zhangjing-” Yanjun finally opens his eyes. His heart is doing that weird thing again, where it twists and folds on top of itself so many times that he tries in vain to undo it. He’s missed him, so much.

Zhangjing shakes his head. “No, Lin Yanjun. You can tell me what you have to say later. I need to say this to you first.”

Yanjun turns on him and looks down at him. Zhangjing looks up at him, his eyes blazing and bright; looking at him is like staring into the sun.

“Your performance today was amazing. Everyone saw that. I saw that. I think you know that as well.” Zhangjing begins. “It was so beautiful, and it was even more so for me, because I know just how hard you had to work to make it so. And I just want to say, Lin Yanjun, please don’t give up on creating things like that, just because you think you’re not going to be worth it. Please don’t ever leave, whether it be the stage…” He swallows. Yanjun follows the movement, his heart beating hard and fast and hot. “... or me.”

Yanjun looks at him, his eyes stinging, until he can’t find it in himself to resist any longer, and he could pull Zhangjing into his arms again.

***

It’s two AM again, another day finished of filming and recording.

Yanjun lies on his bed as usual, staring at his phone. He reads the last few messages Zhangjing sent before he fell asleep, a string of texts updating him about Honglin’s military life and rants to get him to somehow sleep earlier. He can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across his face.

But at the very end, he stops. 

It’s a very simple emoji, a picture of a dog holding a sign with the words ‘Fighting!’ in big bold letters, pink hearts fluttering all around it.

Yanjun stares at it and smiles until his heart doesn’t ache so much anymore.

He turns his phone off and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos really motivate me, so leave one if you have some time!
> 
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ramenree)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ramenreee)


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